I think you’d have to ask its chief sponsor, Satan–the author of confusion.

A lot of people laugh at you if you say you believe the Devil is real. They are obviously not paying attention to the state of our culture.

I assert there are more people, exceedingly wicked people, pushing “transgendered children’s rights” than there are “transgendered children”–a phenomenon which is statistically very rare in nature, if it even exists at all.

They push it because their master tells them to.

And they keep pushing because they are sure that normal people with lives and families and responsibilities will just not be able to keep on pushing back.

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About leeduigon

I have lived in Metuchen, NJ, all my life. I have been married to my wife Patricia since 1977. I am a former newspaper editor and reporter. I was also the owner-operator of my own small business for several years. I wrote various novels and short stories published during 1980s and 1990s. I am a long-time student of judo and Japanese swordsmanship (kenjutsu). I also play chess, basketball, and military and sports simulations.
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Some of the things they are doing today, not even the depraved people of Sodom and Gomorrah would have dreamt up. They think they can just get rid of all the rules and do whatever they want. I think God will have something to say about that.

The tragic thing is that if a child expresses any degree of gender confusion the system will take over and quite possibly impose hormone therapy and/or genital mutilation (AKA sex change surgery). It is not particularly unusual for a child to experience confusion as they take stock of the world and their place in it. That is a far cry from someone with serious gender identity issues.

God created us male and female. I’ve met heterosexual men that have behaved somewhat effeminately and I’ve met some tomboys in my day. That doesn’t mean that the person is gay or transsexual.

I once loved a woman that was as much a tomboy as I’ve ever seen. Believe me, she was all woman, but she loved wearing cowboy cut clothes and working on mechanical things. She was an individual, expressing herself as she saw fit and was completely heterosexual. But there were people that tried to pigeon-hole her into something that she was not. I suspect that all of this transgender-children nonsense fits in the same category.

This is one of the worst forms of child abuse I’ve ever seen. Encouraging a child to question their sexuality to the point of confusion. And then, to continue to goad them further along that path to where they will want to go under the knife and change God’s beautiful work and then need to be on hormone drugs and extra measures to keep them in the opposite gender. I was a tomboy when I was a kid and liked doing “boy” stuff — I still enjoy playing with army guys with my grandsons, reading and discovering facts about dinosaurs and all that, hot wheel cars and model railroad exhibits. I also enjoy war movies and history of the same. And magic tricks, and jokes, and so on. So does all that make me a man? No way! I love being a woman but I love the freedom I have to be a tomboy and not being limited to just girly things which, by the way, I also love.

“I was a tomboy when I was a kid and liked doing “boy” stuff — I still enjoy playing with army guys with my grandsons, reading and discovering facts about dinosaurs and all that, hot wheel cars and model railroad exhibits. I also enjoy war movies and history of the same. And magic tricks, and jokes, and so on. So does all that make me a man? No way! I love being a woman but I love the freedom I have to be a tomboy and not being limited to just girly things which, by the way, I also love.”

I think that is a very natural for a lot of women. There seems to be a cultural expectation that women are confined to certain interests, but that is not indicative of God’s plan. Adam and Eve were made to work together in a complimentary fashion. When I was married, my wife would help me when I worked on the car, etc, and I really enjoyed that.

If I ever were to enter into another marriage you can bet that I would want someone who’s interests went beyond the cosmetics counter at Neiman Marcus. I like women that don’t mind getting their hands dirty. That’s not to say that I don’t appreciate when a woman dresses nicely and does her hair up. That’s a wonderful, beautiful thing to behold, but no woman should be expected to be in that state all the time, and it’s certainly not the way a woman proves herself to be feminine. One of the most satisfying relationships I had experienced was not a romance, but a project where a woman friend and I worked together on some major home improvements.

Patty and I used to love to go next door to the schoolyard and play nine innings of ragball, and I was proud of her determined stance at bat–looked like she was getting set to storm an enemy pillbox.

Alas, she is afraid of bugs. But not, happily, of lizards. I couldn’t be married to anyone who schkeeved at lizards.

Anyhow, we were discussing this very thing today, and she said it seems that the parent with whom you’re closest has a lot to do with the kind of person you grow up to be. Tomboys, she said, were daddies’ girls. Men like me, who love a good natter, were very close to their mothers (without being mamas’ boys!). I think she’s hit the bullseye. I had a mother, two grandmas, and six aunts who all loved me like mad, taught me to read, told me stories, and did very much to shape me.

You know, Lee, I was close to my dad. We were buddies, in fact. He took me with him to see army flicks, we watched Combat, the tv show, documentaries on the different wars our nation experienced. He often told me stuff from his own experiences during his military years. He and I played tricks on each other and he told the funny immigrant stories about Grandpop and so on. My mom and I weren’t all that close. She didn’t feel comfortable just playing cards on a Saturday afternoon or watching the classic horror flicks. My parents are both gone now and I think about them often. But I so miss those times when Dad and I watched a baseball game together or took walks and just talked about his “good old days.” I think your wife is right. I was Daddy’s little girl — I even look like him!